Billie Jean
by CAWCAWcastiel
Summary: Castiel is living a normal life as a kindergarten teacher at a good school. Then the new World Geography teacher comes into the picture along with his genius brother. He is hunted. And the very people who hunt him work with him. (Or the one where Cas is a retired russian intelligence and Dean and Sam are CIA agents who are hunting him. Cas is an angel) Secrets will be uncovered.
1. Chapter 1

This was not supposed to happen. The paint cans weren't even supposed to be able to fall off the table, seeing as they were _nailed to the damn thing._

So why did he keep walking into puddles of of color and ruining his new shoes? Seriously, he just bought these yesterday. It was the first time he'd even worn them and already they were ruined.

Castiel sighs as he helps yet another 7-year-old wash paint off her face, and her dress, after another boy had jokingly cupped some in his hands and proceeded to splash it all over her. Currently, her eyes are red and puffy, her cheeks swollen, and she is whimpering because there is still paint drying on her face.

At least he's not the only one having a bad day.

Delicately he takes the young girl's small hands and holds them under the sink, so when she rubs her eyes she doesn't make them even more irritated by getting paint in them. Once all traces of color are washed off, Castiel takes a paper towel, hands it to the child, and takes another one to run under warm water while she dries off.

He bends down to her level and takes her face in the grip of his forefinger and thumb.

"Okay, Annabelle," he says gently, not wanting to surprise her. "I'm going to get the paint off of your face. Would you like that?"

The little girl nods shakily, her lower lip trembling in that heartachingly sad way that young kids have.

Castiel starts off by pressing the damp paper towel, now lukewarm, on her face and wiping some paint off. It leaves a colorful blotch on the paper towel, and he turns it over so a clean part is facing Annabelle.

He rubs again, a little harder, but not so much to hurt the young girl. Her eyes still look watery and it wouldn't help by making her cry more. He does it again, dabbs this time, and repeats the process until there is no more paint on her little face. He throws the now rainbow colored paper towel into the garbage by the sink and smiles down at her.

"Is that better?" He asks, just to make sure.

She runs a hand down her face and pulls it back to look at, expecting to see colors staining her fingers. When nothing comes back, her face breaks into a little grin, and she begins giggling.

"Y's mister Nov'k, that's much bett'r." She beams up at him.

Castiel's own face betrays a smile. He bends down again, and brings his thumb up to wipe away some stray tears.

"Good. Remember to ask your mommy to wash your beautiful dress, yes? I'd love to see you wear it again, pretty girl." He laughs when she blushes slightly and wraps her small arms around his neck.

"Th'nk you mister Nov'k." she says into his ear, warm.

"You're welcome, Annabelle." He stands up and watches her run off to start playing with her pictures again. He expects she'll need to be cleaned up again in a matter of minutes, if the way she sticks her whole hand into the can is anything to go by.

"Mr. Novak?"

Castiel turns, and finds his boss, the principal, waiting in the doorway of the room. She smiles warmly at him. Castiel's senses tell him that its a facade for something much more depressing. A side she would never show anyone but herself.

"Ms. Collins! Its good to see you. What can I do for our lovely principal?" He makes his way towards her, minding the shorter people in his pathway and being careful not to run them over.

He shakes her hand, her grip as light as it always is, and he pats her hand comfortingly. Castiel can see a more realistic smile shining through at the action, and he takes pride in that.

"Well, you see, we have hired a new seventh grade maths teacher and a new freshmen world geography teacher. They both happen to be arriving on the same day, as they are brothers," She explains carefully. Castiel can see her facade slip through slightly to the nervousness below and he grips her hand tighter. "Unfortunately, all the other teachers have classes during the period that they are supposed to be given a tour and I have had to bail because of a short notice board meeting."

"And you want me to give them a tour since that's my free period before lunch?" He asks, reading her mind.

Her face sags in relief. "Would you?" she pleads.

"Of course. It's my job to be nice to the new kids at school." He smirks when she chuckles.

"Thank you, Mr. Novak." she grins, and Castiel sees a weight has just been lifted from her shoulders.

"It's my pleasure, Ms. Collins." He watches her leave, her back turned but her heart vulnerable. It's the best thing that has happened to her all day.

Castiel walks home.

Well, by home he means his small, three bedroom, two bath apartment. Whitewashed walls and all.

Seriously, he really needs to decorate the plain living space. People might get suspicious if they visited. (That's a really big _if_). The only person who had ever visited was his landlord, who had only ever inspected the place for leaks or vandalism and left, not even a word about his unusual home.

He takes his time walking home, greeting each of the homeless on the corners, dropping a five dollar bill into each hat or can and telling them to go buy themselves a sandwich. He waves through the window at the small supermarket to old Mrs. Gold, and her estranged cat, Finnick. The feline prances out the sliding doors to greet Castiel, and he reaches down to scratch behind Finnick's ears, the cat purring the whole time.

He stops at the music shop to do the classic Michael Jackson moves, dancing to imaginary Billie Jean, and George, the cashier on shift at the moment, laughs at his crazy imitation. With a wink, Castiel continues on.

When he finally gets to his apartment building, he has a bright smile on his face as he strides into the front lobby. He intends to start up a friendly conversation with the front desk man, James, but the poor man seems to be involved in an argument. The yelling alerts Castiel, but when the other man pulls James over the stone counter by the front of his shirt, Castiel is by his side in the blink of an eye.

He pulls the angry customer into a death grip arm lock, with no way out. The man struggles under his strength, but is no match, so he gives up. Castiel is tight-lipped the entire time, aware of the man's companion staring daggers into the side of his head.

He reluctantly lets the man go, whom as such takes the time to rub his wrist, grumbling.

"Why are you giving this man trouble?" He asks sternly, the undertone obvious. _If you start any more violence, I will do more than just put you in an arm lock. _

The man in front of him doesn't answer, just continues rubbing his wrist and mumbling under his breath. Instead, his companion provides some answers.

"We're looking for an apartment. No one else has any available rooms for us, so this was our last resort," The man's companion is tall, taller than any Castiel's ever seen, and in comparison he is like an elf to this man who looks down at him as he speaks. "This place doesn't even have anything, so my brother is just mad that there isn't anywhere we can live. It looks like we'll be spending more time in a cheap motel across town."

Castiel considers this and finally looks back to the other man. He thinks for a moment, _you don't even know them, _but he swears he's seen them before somewhere and that makes him somehow generous. Even though this is a disastrous idea.

"I know it is short notice, but you seem like decent people, and so," He mentally slaps himself at this. "you may stay with me for the time being until you find somewhere else."

And he almost actually slaps himself because the man in front of him is suddenly turning and beaming and all he can think is _oh dear lord _before he's wrapped up in a bear hug. It's the most traumatizing experience in his life, because the man lifts him, _lifts him,_ up off the ground and his feet are dangling below him as he squirms slightly.

When he is finally allowed the ground again, the man has pulled back.

_And everything comes tumbling down._ Because this man, _this man_, Castiel actually recognizes immediately and almost gasps, almost pulls a knock out punch and runs. _This man._

_This man._

_This man is Dean Winchester, professionally trained assassin and hunter, and that's his brother, Sam Winchester, CIA hacker and also trained hunter. _

_Hunters. _

And Castiel has a feeling of just _who_ they're hunting.

**This is such a bad day for him.**

I would deeply appreciate reviews! please? *puppy dog eyes*


	2. Chapter 2

Now he's done it. He's absolutely screwed this time. Maybe even more so than when he had accidentally healed that blind man on the side of the road when he was a fledgling (even though that was really bad, he thinks inviting two extremely dangerous hunters into his house ranks _just a tiny bit higher_).

Castiel could swear that he could hear one of the hunters snicker as he struggled with his keys. His hands were shaking like hell after all. Everytime he reaches out to place the key in the lock it feels like his hand spasms slightly and he drops it.

He's sure he looks pathetic.

The hunters continue their banter when Castiel finally, _finally,_ gets the key to fit in the lock and shoves it open with a little more force than necessary.

He starts to make his way to his room when a throat clears behind him, followed by a door slamming shut. He has to will his feet to move so he can turn, be as polite as he can without giving away how nervous he is.

"Hey sugar, I know you're eager to get away from us strangers, but," Castiel's heart almost beats out of his chest when the joke mostly goes over his head. Dean doesn't seem to notice, either choosing to ignore it or totally oblivious. "Wouldn't you like to give us the tour before we try and touch something and wreck it?"

Castiel licks his lips, trying to calm himself. His pulse is out of control at the moment, and what he really wants to do is spread his wings and jump out the fourth story window. But for now, since he can't without being totally screwed for life, he needs to give these men a tour of his apartment. _Totally domestic. Not like they're going to jump you, Castiel, _His conscious tells him.

"Of course." He manages and quickly walks over to the small living area. It consists of one large couch and two armchairs, provided in case he actually got company some time. "This is the living room. You're welcome to spend your time in here, seeing as you'll be living here for now. But please, refrain from make out sessions if possible. Keep those in the bedroom so you won't scar me for life."

Dean snickers and comes up behind him, claps him on the shoulder. Castiel flinches.

"Awesome, dude. But what you really need is a tv so we won't have to resort to making out as our only source of entertainment." He jokes, and Castiel deems that little piece of advice fair. (Maybe it would make the place seem a little less dull too.)

"Hey, Dean, I just realized," Sam comes up next to Dean, his brow furrowed, seemingly bothered. "We don't know his name." He talks as if Castiel isn't standing right in front of them.

Dean scowls, which for a fleeting moment, a little voice in the back of his head supplies, _adorable._

Castiel instantly flushes that thought down the river of _never to be pondered upon._

"Yeah, man, sorry about that," Dean reaches out a hand for him to shake, and his expression makes him seem vaguely bothered. "I'm Dean Winchester. This is my brother-"

"Sam." Sam finishes for him.

Awkwardly, he reaches out and grasps the hunter's hand. He is met by a firm, confident grip that almost tips him off balance for a moment. Sam also shakes his hand, and Castiel notices that both hands are calloused and rough from supposedly many years of handling guns.

_And the bodies of your dead brothers and sisters, _the voice supplies. It's shushed abruptly by the part of him trying to get along with these hunters and not become prey.

"I am Castiel. Novak. Sorry." He knows that he was flushed out of the system years ago, but he's still wary when he introduces himself. Doesn't know if someone will recognize him or not after his service to the russian intelligence. He always knew this would happen sometime though. Someone discovering his secret.

"Great! Hey, Cas, you happen to have any beer by chance?" Dean asks out of the blue.

Castiel looks at him incredulously. He's only known this man for ten minutes and he has a nickname. Not to mention is already being asked for a drink.

"Sorry. Um. I don't." He says somewhat sheepishly.

While Dean looks kind of disappointed, Sam is smirking behind his back, seemingly amused at Dean's rejection. Castiel decides Sam doesn't seem so bad. So far. He hopes he'll never have to see the younger Winchester when he's hunting one of his kind. Or his older brother.

"Okay, um, well what do you do for a living, Castiel?" Sam asks, trying to keep the conversation going while Dean slumps into one of the armchairs.

"I work as a teacher at St. Peter's school for all grades. I teach the kindergarteners there." He explains. Sam nods his head, but his- along with Dean's- eyebrows go up in surprise. Castiel already knows what he's going to say before he does.

"Really? Well, we're just starting there as new employees. I'm a math teacher and Dean is a world history teacher." Castiel knows this isn't true. He knows that they've probably just acquired these jobs to go along with the hunt and make some extra cash. He still nods his head though and smiles politely.

"Well, if you're the new teachers my boss recently told me about, then I guess I'm the one giving you gentlemen a tour of the school."

"Wouldn't you know it? Cas here is already our best friend and we only just met him, Sammy." Dean smiles appreciatively and gives him a flirtatious wink. Which Castiel deliberately _does not _blush at.

Which totally means he does. And it's embarrassing because his face looks like a giant tomato.

Damn.

"Well, um, I-I should probably go get changed out of my work clothes," He stutters, and Dean smirks. Sam rolls his eyes. "You two may choose between either of the available rooms, if you wish. Obviously, mine is taken." _Idiot._ "Um, help yourself to the leftovers in the kitchen. A-And make yourself comfortable. Please."

"Don't get too excited, Cas, we need sleep for tomorrow." Dean is full blown smirking. Teasing him as Castiel shuffles to his bedroom, out of sight.

He barely catches Sam's "Seriously, Dean. Can you _not _flirt with someone for once? Just once?" and Dean's reply of "Sorry, Sammy. You only live once."

After that Castiel is slamming his bedroom door shut, and leaning against it, breathing heavily. He raises his hands in front of his face, discovers they're shaking. Everything blurs as he tries not to cry, making it hard to navigate to his desk.

He roughly opens one of his drawers, looking. Looking for something he should've thrown away years ago, but didn't have the heart to. He needed the reminder too much.

Finally, he pulls out a sleek, black flip phone. It was buried under a pile of stuff in the back of the drawer. Castiel makes a mental note to create a secret compartment for it now that he is rooming with two highly trained, CIA hunters.

He flips the small device open, scrolling through his contacts.

He doesn't know who to call. Nobody would support him if he did. Everyone hates him already and he doesn't need to beg to make them hate him more. Obviously, he can't call headquarters. They would take his calling them as a plea to get back in.

And that is the _last thing _he wants to do.

That eliminates about 500 people off his list, so now he needs to think of someone who doesn't hate him.

About 600 more taken off.

He thinks about calling Gabriel, but that would just cause further controversy between him and the other head angels. He can't risk the possibility of his older brother being cast out because of him.

Even though Gabriel already insists he's been trying for years to get out like Castiel did.

If you cross off all his siblings that he doesn't even know, then that only leaves one person. Well, one angel.

Quickly, he clicks on the number, and presses it to his ear. It's a long shot, but he has to try.

"Who is this?" The voice comes along the line after one ring. It's feminine, serious. It reveals no emotions, like all angels are trained to do. And she's speaking Enochian. Just hearing it makes him relax and tense up all at once.

"Anna." He tries. He can't risk speaking in his native tongue here. The hunters would come barging in to kill him and eventually go after the others with the information they got from the phone.

A pause from the end of the line. Maybe trying to figure out who would have her number and know her name. He deleted his number out of the system years ago anyways.

"Castiel." Her tone supplies that she isn't amused. That she's about to hang up.

"Please don't hang up on me, Anna," He says. "You're the only one I can turn to."

His voice breaks a little on that last bit.

Silence. Some slight rustling. It might be her clearing some papers off her desk.

The thought brings back the fond, yet painful, memory of Anna. Sitting at her desk, red hair flying everywhere and scrambling to find the right document while a superior stands over her shoulder. Naomi was a scolding presence without even saying anything. Just the way she regarded Anna reminded Castiel of a hawk seeking out it's prey from high above the ground.

Of course, Castiel had turned out to be Naomi's superior in the end of everything. Before he had turned.

Anna was left sitting at her desk, writing reports of missions.

But still, she was the only one left who didn't _completely _hate Castiel.

"What do you want? You have two minutes." She tells him, voice clearly torn between keeping her job and helping a friend.

"Some hunters have moved into my apartment."

He can hear her choke slightly on something. Can hear coughing and sputtering on the other line; no doubt it's disturbing people around her.

"W-What?"

"I accidentally invited some hunters to stay with me for the time being," He explains. "I didn't know what I had gotten into until I saw the older one's face."

A sigh. She's clearly wondering how he got himself into these things.

"So you recognized them? Yes?"

Castiel nods. Then remembers she can't see him.

"Yes."

"Do you know their names?"

He hesitates before telling her. This isn't going to be a good reaction, he can tell.

"Sam and Dean Winchester."

"What?!" She yells, and Castiel has to pull the phone away from his ear to prevent hearing loss. Even in Enochian, it hurts when someone yells into the receiver. "Cas! Those guys are at the top of the hit list! If the intelligence finds them then…"

"I know," _Why didn't you think of this before, idiot? _"They'll find me too. That's why I called you."

"I really don't know what to do, Cas. Do they have jobs somewhere? Maybe…"

"No."

"No?"

"No. I won't let the intelligence take them in right now. I want to scope them out a little more. See if I can escape without it being noticed I was here." He pauses. "By either government."

She sighs. Frustrated, then.

"I can give you time." Anna seems perplexed. Even more than usual. Castiel can picture her hair, the color of her victims' blood, hanging off the back of that white chair. A stark contrast in shades, while it reflects her personality perfectly. Focused and calm, yet determined and deadly in the eyes of the enemy. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Gabe or something? I would think he'd _love_ to help out his little brother."

Castiel can sense the sarcasm hanging off that last little snippet of sentence, and snorts.

"No, I don't think I want to be responsible for Gabriel being discovered. Let alone being put as number one on the CIA's hit list." He can't help imagining Gabriel having a field day with the slaughtering Sam and Dean though.

"Okay, but I'm doubtful that you can handle this yourself."

He takes a deep breath, releases it. No need to get angry.

"What? Are you worried about me?"

"No," Is the immediate response.

"Then I imagine I'll be fine. After all, I _was_ the top agent in the field, wasn't I?"

A snicker.

"Yes, Castiel. You were," She says, somewhat resentful yet teasing. "But you also had the biggest stick up your ass anyone had ever seen. I can't believe you gave that up for the humans. Seriously."

"Truthfully, I don't remember why I left," he confesses. "I felt something pulling me though."

"It could've been the rope that was attached to the stick, you know. Hmm…," she says thoughtfully.

"Yeah, like Gabriel or Michael would've wanted me to leave. I was the best they had. _Still am._"

"I heard rumors that Gabriel tried holding onto the rope so he could escape too...Maybe he's what pulled the stick out…Maybe that's why you acted so differently lately…"

"You're of no help currently, so I'm hanging up."

"I'll talk to you later then. Maybe I'll get the privilege of being the first to see that big gaping hole in your ass that everyone's been talking about." She then starts to cackle horrendously at her jokes, and that's when Castiel abruptly hangs up.

He sighs. Getting out of the chair he had been sitting in and making his way over to his closet. He slides out of his favorite tan trenchcoat, hangs it up, and unbuttons his white dress shirt, favoring a faded old Led Zeppelin t-shirt instead. He takes his black work pants off, which leaves him in nothing but briefs.

The cool air welcomes his legs, glad to be free of their restraints, and guides him over to the mirror mounted on his wall.

Tipping his head both directions, he checks himself for any stray hairs he might have missed while shaving that morning. When he finds nothing, he ruffles his hair to make it look like he doesn't he have so much hair gel.

Castiel climbs into his bed, relaxing at how nice the covers over his body are. Settling in, he quickly falls asleep.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. All rights are Erin Kripke's. Sorry if get some stuff wrong about the intelligence, or anything else, but you can always tell me in a review and I'll fix it! Thank you!


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